


June 10th, 1945

by Weeb_Trash1640



Category: World War 2 - Fandom, ww2 - Fandom
Genre: Allied Forces, Angst, D-Day, Gen, Minor Character Death, War, World War II, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23538379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weeb_Trash1640/pseuds/Weeb_Trash1640
Summary: War isn’t an adventure. War isn’t a heroic feat someone does for fame. War is a horror story, A tragedy. (Oneshot)
Relationships: None
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	June 10th, 1945

War isn’t an adventure. War isn’t a heroic feat someone does for fame. War is a horror story, A tragedy. 

My name is John. I was a soldier of in the 2nd battalion of Omaha Beach. The goal was simple. Capture Normandy beaches through any means necessary. 

I was terrified. 

I KNEW what that meant. I would have to take lives. To kill, hurt and maim for the sake of my country. But I knew it had to be done. America couldn’t let the Nazis take ahold of the rest of Europe. It would mean catastrophe. I had heard rumors, about unspeakable acts that they committed. How they tortured innocent lives for the sake of winning. I couldn’t let people like that get to my wife and son. 

I COULDN’T! 

I clutched my cross around my neck tight. My knuckles turning white. I held my breath as the waves of the ocean rocked the boat. The ocean, with me living near the coast, usually served as a lullaby. In this situation, it only made me more anxious. Someone tapped my shoulder. I jumped. It was one of the soldiers, Jim? James? I couldn’t remember. 

“Oh! I didn’t mean to startle you. You seemed a bit out of it. I just wanted to tell you we’re almost there. Didn’t want you to die the moment we got there!” 

The kid kept his tone light, almost as if there weren’t any soldiers upchucking food from earlier this morning, or as if we weren't staring death in the face. It was weird, hearing something so bright in the midst of hell. As soon as his words were uttered, collective silence spread throughout the boat. I saw a long, yellow strip of land ranging from all the way to the left of my vision to the right. Above it, was a small hill swarming with Germans, guns at the ready. Huh. So we were almost there. 

Shit.

Like a switch, my senses turned off. Up ahead, I heard the sounds of warfare. Like a never-ending alarm, the sound of gunfire and screams were heard from the island. I cringed back, fearing the sound like a cat would a dog.

“LISTEN UP!”

I stood in attention. My back straight and my eyes forward and attent. Just like military school. I thought. I was trained for this. I thought. 

I was so very, very wrong.

Basic training didn’t prepare me for this. For the screams, the smoke, the sounds. For the kill-my thoughts again interrupted by a voice.

”ALRIGHT MEN! TODAY IS JUDGEMENT DAY! WE ARE GOING TO KILL THESE NAZI BASTARDS OR DIE TRYING! YEAH?” 

Even if all the men near me were shaken, stricken by fear, they all confident as day, replied back with a “YES SIR!” 

And as if on some cue, the sounds from the warzone became a part of it. The door lowered, and I stared into the jaws of death.

As a group, my battalion and I rushed forward. As a group, we jumped into the depths of the ocean. As a group, we all felt the weight of our helmets and nap-sacs drag us down. 70 pounds turned into a hundred. Slowly but surely, everyone began dropping their bags in an attempt to not become an easy target. Two days worth of food? Gone. Extra bandages? dropped. Sleeping Sack? At the bottom of the sea. My survival now possibly traded for my future survival. What a waste. Those petty thoughts only lasted for a few more seconds as the sputter of a machine gun echoed through my eardrum.

“DUC-” was the only vocal warning we got before enemy bullets pelted down like rain. The man who spoke the warning? Dead. A bullet-shaped hole was on his head, and with eyes permanently open with shock, he fell into the water with a thunk. Others before him met the same fate. All into the water they fell. Forever gone from the world. The only memory of them now being the blood that coated the water with a dark red and their bodies sunken into the water with all their heavy equipment. 

I stared at the water in shock, my brain freezing up at the death in the front and around me. The pettiness of my previous statement overwhelming me with guilt. Dropping-dropping items a waste? Seeing human beings...men dropping is worse. 

They didn’t even get to fight. They didn’t get even a single shot on those-those fucking GERMANS. Their bodies will go home to their families, and then they’ll be told that their noble sacrifice was being a meat shield for people like me. Men with hopes, dreams, and a life ahead of them were simply tossed aside so that others could get ahead...WHY?!? 

I saw red. 

In a raged filled sprint, I raced towards the shore and hid myself behind a steel barricade. A hard grip on my rifle, braced it with my shoulder and started shooting into the area above. Anger and sadness clouded my thoughts. Any thought for Germans lives gone in an instant. WHY?!? I shot a German’s leg. WHY?!? I hit a barricade. WHY?!? I shot a Nazi in the heart. Each bullet I shot punctured his single word into my head. I looked around. Hell stared right back. 

Bodies littered the ground like lifeless dolls, cut from their puppeteers’ strings, never to rise again. Red dyed the ocean, painting it like the flames of hell. Injured men screaming out in pain, some wishing for their mother, others holding their hands in prayer knowing what was to come. Some like me, hidden against the barricade, with either a look of anger or a look of anguish. All the while bullets wrang out through the beach. I stopped firing. Taking the chaotic scenery in. For the remainder of my rage-induced shots, tears fell from my eyes. Even as a man, I couldn’t stop them. I found my resolve. 

I promised I would fight for those dead soldiers, for my family, and for my country. I continued shooting.

The rest of the battle was a blur. Firing and killing was a recurring theme. Maybe my brain saw too many horrible things, and it was too difficult for me to handle. Or maybe I just ignored all the horrible things around me. Either way, I don’t regret what I did. It was for justice of those dead soldiers and the safety of others. But it is and will forever be the worst experiences of my life that I wouldn’t wish it upon almost anyone. Because war isn’t an adventure. War isn’t a heroic feat someone does for fame. War is a horror story, A tragedy. 

END


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